


Tonight

by chocolatemoosey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-27
Updated: 2012-11-27
Packaged: 2017-11-19 16:19:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/575213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocolatemoosey/pseuds/chocolatemoosey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas wants to do something special for Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> I was going through my external drive and I found this smut drabble that I'd completely forgotten that I wrote, so I decided to share it.

Dean fell back onto his elbows, the crappy motel bed beneath him emitting an obnoxious series of squeaks as Castiel straddled the hunter’s thighs with his arms. A cool hand swept under the flimsy fabric of Dean’s ACDC tee and exposed his hip bone to the angel, who gratefully ran the tip of his nose along the length, pressing a hot kiss to Dean’s abdomen. Up and up his hands crept, curious things with long fingers that ghosted along his body, barely even touching, yet thrumming with excruciating power that closed the distance where they did not.    

“ _Fuck._ ” Dean swore, tossing his head back as Cas pushed up his shirt even further, cool lips parting to his searing hot mouth as they traveled up Dean’s belly, tongue delving into his navel. All the while his hands continued to explore, fanning out and mapping every rise and fall of his human’s body: up his chest and over peaked nipples, making Dean his; nails grazing over his clavicle before sliding back down with practiced precision to cup Dean through his jeans.

Dean bucked up against Castiel, his cock prodding the hollow of the angel’s throat and making him release a low, keening hum. It was dark and curious.  This was never a good sign.

Or, perhaps, it was a _very_ good sign. ‘ _Yes this is a fucking amazing sign_.’ Dean decided as Castiel began to use his middle finger to stroke up the length of the bulge, the pressure and brush of warm fabric making him groan. ‘ _This is my favorite sign ever._ ’

Deft hands began to work away at Dean’s buckle and Castiel did not waste any time removing his belt before he drew down Dean’s zipper, taking his flushed dick in hand, squeezing up the length. Dean rolled his hips into Cas’ grip appreciatively, precum already slicking the length and making the motion fluid. Cas pinched his eyes, tilting his head as Dean moved and began to rotate his wrist, pinning down Dean’s hips with a steely resolve as he set the slow pace.

“You’re killing me, Cas.” Dean groaned, biting his lip as he threw back his head onto the threadbare pillow. He could almost see Castiel’s head shift to tilt the other direction.

“Why would I kill you?” He inquired, sincerely perplexed by his lover’s statement. Dean made a noise halfway between a grunt and a moan and attempted to roll up into Cas’ grip once more. However, Castiel held fast, working Dean over slow and steady.

“You need not hurry.” Promised Castiel in that growl pitched just lower than usual. It made Dean shiver despite himself, jolts racing down his spine. “I wish to try something, Dean.”

Okay, maybe it _was_ a bad sign. The last time Cas had wanted to ‘try something’, he had apparently gotten his hands on an issue of cosmo that suggested something that would produce effects similar to receiving an Indian Sunburn. Long story short, Dean couldn’t piss properly for a week and Castiel took to sulking in corners like a kitten that had pooped on the floor. This had been made even more awkward by the fact that Sam kept looking at them with one of those I-kinda-not-really-wanna-know-but-at-the-same-time-it’s-probably-gonna-scar-me-for-life-so-I’ll-just-stand-here-and-stare-questioningly faces whenever Dean left the bathroom in near tears and Castiel directed his eyes towards the floor.

During this brief ‘Nam-style flashback, Dean had opened his mouth to protest, threading his fingers through the crown of Castiel’s hair, only to freeze when he saw the tip of the angel’s tongue dart out of his mouth and trace the dark vein up to the head of his cock. Instantly, Dean’s stomach began to warm with something like rapidly impending orgasm and it took every ounce of willpower not to lie back down in the bed and let his angel suck him off. Dean pulled away from Castiel as best he could, gently pulling him away from his cock as the angel’s right hand still worked the base, which was not helping at all.

“ _Cas_.” He said, very seriously. Or, at least he was attempting to sound very serious, but it only came out as a weak, gravely noise in the base of his throat. “Stop.”

Castiel looked up at Dean with perplexed eyes. His brows drew together momentarily before he stared down at the patch of gaudy bed sheets beside Dean’s hip. “I acted incorrectly.” He stated in defeat. Dean’s heart clenched and he placed his hand on Castiel’s cheek, rubbing small circles into his unshaven skin.

“No. No you did fine, its just—.”

“Then why do you not wish me to continue?” Castiel asked, still stroking Dean off, using his thumb to tease the head of his dick _just a bit_.

Dean groaned, shaking his head violently. “You… you don’t deserve to be down on your knees servicing me.” He choked out around his surprised moans.

“‘Servicing’?” Castiel echoed, still as lost as even— _and his hand was still moving._ “Dean, I wished to bring you to climax with my mouth; I don’t understand how this is a service to you.”

The statement was just so fucking ridiculous and _Cas-like_ that Dean had to laugh a little, his hand falling from Cas’ cheek and securing around the angel’s pumping hand, attempting to slow him. “Here, let me—.”

But Castiel was having none of this. He surged up against Dean, straddling the hunter’s hips with his own and grinding up against Dean forcefully before he descended upon him with an open-mouthed kiss. Neither bothered to hesitate with running their tongues up against the others’ as Castiel’s hand found the mark scorched onto the hunter’s arm, squeezing it and rendering Dean’s mind into a pile of sexual mush.

“ _I wish to do this for you, Dean._ ” Castiel said once he had pulled away, very low and very clear in his I-am-an-angel-of-the-Lord-and-I-shall-do-as-I-please voice which always further managed to push Dean’s brain into unintelligible depths whenever they were in bed. At that tone, Dean nodded fervently, understanding that there was no returning from this brink and Castiel gave the mark one final squeeze in appreciation. Dean hissed and the angel descended once more, wasting no time wrapping his lips around the tip and sucking gently before he pulled away, licking down the hot appendage once more.

“Am I going about this correctly, Dean?” The angel asked huskily, kissing its side lightly. The rush of hot air over his cock made it leap and Dean made a vague noise of agreement, all eloquent statements hitherto vaporized before they could make it out of his mouth.

Castiel, however, was not impressed. “Guide me.” He instructed lowly. “Show me what makes you feel good, Dean.”

‘ _Well, when you say sexy shit like that, for one…_ ’ Dean thought, but merely bucked up into Castiel’s mouth as he began to suck on the tip once more. The apology that fell from his lips was muffled as the startled noise the angel emitted became a low hum and he pulled back, taking Dean deeper into his mouth. He bobbed his head, allowing Dean to roll his hips in slow, precise movements into his mouth in time with his own movements. Cas sucked back up to the tip, brushing his tongue over the slit before bracing himself on either side of Dean’s hips and lowering his mouth as far as he dared, pulling back up, excruciatingly slow.

“Cas. _Cas_.” Dean chanted, unable to form anything more coherent than the angel’s name as his fingers threaded through his hair, gently pulling and pressing until a rhythm was set with the gentle buck of his hips into the slick, shallow, wet heat. “ _Shit_ Cas, I’m—.”

Castiel sucked lower as Dean’s climax was upon him, and he rode it out in several short, tremulous thrusts—and then he was limp, panting, heart racing and banging an erratic rhythm in his head as Castiel _swallowed_ , licking up the remains of Dean’s orgasm from his thighs. The hunter wished desperately to comment or thank the angel or _something_ , but before he could summon even a breath to provide the words, the angel had crept up the length of his body, lightly pressing Dean’s face into his crotch.

“I believe retribution is in order, Dean.” He said lowly.


End file.
